


Sometimes

by xxenjoy



Category: Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Episode: s07e17 The Born-Again Identity, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Post-Reichenbach, mostly canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 03:41:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1495258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxenjoy/pseuds/xxenjoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's still miserable after losing Cas in the lake, and he finds someone who knows the feeling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes

**Author's Note:**

> So apparently this is what I think about in the shower... I don't even know. Have some John and Dean missing their boyfriends.

He meets some guy in a bar one night. There's nothing particularly interesting about the guy, he's short, blonde, blue eyes. 

British, he adds as the guy orders another drink. He looks a little like a Hobbit and it takes way too long for Dean to realize he's wondering how hairy the guys feet are. He doesn't notice that he's staring, in fact, until his unwitting companion clears his throat.

"Anything I can help you with?" he asks, clearly irritated.

"Sorry," Dean mutters, then under his breath, "the fuck's your problem."

"I lost my best friend last week," he answers haughtily. "And yours?"

"Coincidentally, me too. Not so recently."

"When?" he asks a little more calmly, turning back to the bar and his drink.

"Back in September," he says. He doesn't mention _why_ it still affects him so much after so long, doesn't bring up the trench coat sitting in the trunk of his car, or the photo on his phone that even Sam doesn't know exists. He just takes another drink and they settle into an oddly companionable sort of silence. 

They each order another drink and Dean pays for them both. The guys nods his thanks and Dean gives a half-hearted smile in return. About an hour passes and neither of them move, but glasses are taken away and refilled a few more times. If he had been any better off emotionally he might have tried to pick him up and take him back to his shitty motel room. He wasn't unattractive, and Dean really needs something, _anything_ to block out the memories. 

He takes another drink and suddenly realizes he's thinking about fucking some guy whose best friend just died, so maybe no more alcohol.

"How'd it happen, if you don't mind my asking?" He doesn't really expect an answer and he's surprised when the guy responds with a blunt 

"Suicide. You?"

Dean chuckles humourlessly, swirling the amber liquid around his glass, "wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

"Dude was an angel. Swallowed up Purgatory thinking he could use the souls as power. Turns out Leviathan are stronger than angels. He walked into a lake and, I dunno, exploded or something." Dean expects some smartass comment, some pissed off don't-mock-me scowl, what he doesn't expect is the response he gets.

"Is he the one all the black stuff came from? The guy in the trench coat?" Dean gapes at him and the guy explains, "it was on the news. Angel and Leviathan stuff is new though."

"Yeah," Dean nods solemnly, "that's Cas. Was Cas."

"I'm John," he holds out a hand and Dan takes it awkwardly, "John Watson."

"As in, Holmes and Watson?"

"Yes, that one."

"So Sherlock Holmes-"

"Is my best friend who died. Was my best friend."

"Right," Dean says softly, "Dean, by the way."

"Hello, Dean." There's something morbidly amusing about hearing those words from another mouth. They sound so twisted and wrong and Dean's not really sure how what to think about it, so he takes another drink, focusing on the bitter taste on his tongue as if it will solve all his problems. 

There's not really much else you can say to that, they know each other's stories and if John feels anything like Dean does, he won't walk to talk about it. They fall into silence again. Dean doesn't order any more drinks, but he pulls out his phone and finds the picture he can't stop thinking about. There's another one, one with a car and a whole lot of bees, that Dean had thought was amusing at the time. Now it just hurts, but he can't bring himself to delete it, it's become one of the few things he has to hold on to. 

And hold on, he does. Staring down into smiling eyes and a skewed tie, he wonders when the hell the Apocalypse turned into some of the best memories he has. 

\---

A few months later, Dean's standing in a living room in Colorado, a knife held tightly in his hand, and somewhere amongst his mixed-up, disbelieving, yet insanely relieved thoughts, he remembers a man with blonde hair and blue eyes sitting in a bar. He stops for a moment, for the first time in his life, to be thankful that his life isn't like everyone else's, because sometimes, just sometimes, the people that he loves come back to him.


End file.
